The Blades of Time

Chapter 10: Confusion

Cillian

"So," Cylaei started, combing his hair with her fingers, "Lieutenant, huh?" Cillian smiled.

"I guess I will."

Cillian sighed. He brushed her hair off her face and then looked at the ceiling.

"You get to kill the blonde prince! You'll be a legend. Because of you, we'll have the first Slaerian High King. Children will read about you. You'll change the world!"

Cylaei narrowed her eyes before placing a gentle kiss on his nose.

"Oh yay. Fashion. How well you know me."

"You get a red jacket."

"I don't want a bigger room."

"Well, you get a bigger room."

"Why is it good? What changes exactly?"

"Come on! It's good."

"Stop."

They were silent for a long time, Cylaei naked in his arms, the covers wrapped around them tightly. Her dark hair kept tickling his neck, her eyes closing a little more each time. She looked beautiful when she was sleepy.

"How is he? The prince," she said softly.

Cillian thought for a moment. How was he really? Their conversation had been brief, and yet he could still feel the tingly sensation of his voice in the air. His hands on the rails, his fingers sculpted in marble, grabbing his cigarette and taking it to his pink, soft mouth. His smell, like rape citruses. Cillian didn't know how to describe him.

"He is just like they say. Beautiful," Cylaei raised her eyebrows and let out a soft hmmm. "Arrogant," Cillian said quickly. "He's... He's just a spoiled boy."

It sounded like a lie even as he said it. If Cylaei noticed, she didn't show.

"Do you think he deserves to die?"

"I don't know if he deserves it. I know he has to."

"Do you want me to go instead?"

The thought of Cylaei with the prince made Cillian's chest fill with air and his forehead wrinkle. No. Definitely not.

"Why would you want to?"

"I don't know. I just worry you might..."

"Do you think I can't do something as easy as killing some stupid kid? I can kill the prince, the King, the fucking White Dragon." Cillian's heart was racing. He unclasped her and sat on the bed.

"I know you can, I just thought maybe you would like to stay and train instead of going on a dumb mission."

"It's not a dumb mission. You just said it's world-changing. I wanna be a part of that. You stay and train. You need the practice." Cylaei laughed and elbowed him in the ribs.

"Fine. You go kill the prince. But don't come whining to me if he escapes."

Why would he escape? Cillian had been a soldier since he was nine. There was simply no way the prince would escape him. No one had escaped him. Ever. Yeah, the boy looked healthy, but he also looked delicate. His hands were not the hands of a fighter; they were so smooth they looked as if they could break from a deep caress. He was built to sit on a throne or at the back of a horse, not to fight a Slaerian soldier. Especially this soldier. Cillian had killed more Nephilim than anyone, even Cylaei was behind him. That was why he had been chosen. It surprised Cillian that Cylaei would doubt him. She was probably jealous of the praise he would get once he got back with Dalya's ring wrapped around his finger. Cillian thought of the prince, of his face, his heavenly looks, his eyes. His voice.You were bored. You will die because you were bored. 

            "I can kill the fucking prince."